Cry
by GundamWingFanatic90
Summary: Maedhros sees Fëanor cry for the first time. Some Fëanor angst and fluff, from Maedhros' point of view. Character study. No slash. Very slight FëanorNerdanel.


**_Here I am with another Silmarillion fic. I hope that you like it._**

**_This was written on a whim, when I began to ponder how Fëanor may have reacted to the births of the Sons of Indis. I think that even the most seemingly prideful and arrogant Elf has his own inner fears that drive some of his emotions. Character study, in other words._**

**_Summary: Maedhros sees Fëanor cry for the first time. Slight Fëanor angst and fluff. Rated G._**

**_The Silmarillion and all related characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his estate. I hope I do you justice, Professor Tolkien!_**

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**_CRY._**

_**By GundamWingFanatic90.**_

_**Submitted: 5-14-07.**_

_**Time: 15 Minutes..**_

The first time Nelyafinwë had ever seen his father cry had been after the birth of Arafinwë, Fëanáro's youngest brother by Indis. Fëanáro had gone to his father's home to keep Finwë calm during the birth; it truly seemed that the High King of the Noldor had never gotten over his fear of a repeat of the tragedy of Míriel, Fëanáro's birth mother, and at the birth of Nolofinwë had nearly passed out from anxiety.

Fëanáro had come home during the wee hours of the morning, more furious than Nelyafinwë had ever seen him before. Fëanáro had then proceeded to sequester himself in the courtyard for the better part of the night, swinging a tooled wooden dagger in eerily practiced motions, shirtless and hopping mad.

Nelyafinwë had stayed up in his room, waiting for his father, that whole day. When Fëanáro had come in, Nelyafinwë had been in the kitchen, getting a midnight snack. His father had not even noticed him, storming past the room to the tool shed and then blazing out into the courtyard. He had stripped himself of his tunic and boots and proceeded to hack and stab at a number of invisible enemies. Where his father had learned how to perform such a thing, Nelyafinwë would not discover until many Ages had passed. But Nelyafinwë had watched his father the whole night long, until Telperion had waned and Laurelin was beginning to wax.

Just as the golden rays from the day tree were beginning to brighten the courtyard, movement had caught Nelyafinwë's eye from his left. He glanced over to see that his mother had joined them in the courtyard, her eyes glued, as her son's had been, on the irate Fëanáro's dodging and slashing form. She did not seem to notice her eldest, though he was easily the tallest out of the three of them.

When finally Fëanáro had finished his routine for the moment, Nerdanel had moved on silent feet down to her husband. Nelyafinwë had then watched as their gazes met for a moment before his father's stony visage had crumpled slightly and Nerdanel had enfolded him in a strong, tender embrace. Fëanáro's shoulders had shaken for a good hour before he had finally calmed enough to confess to his wife what had been the root of his anger.

"I feel forgotten, Nerdanel," he had told her in a voice that Nelyafinwë could have never placed as his strong, proud father. Nerdanel was the only one who could make him drop his mask in this way. "My father has forgotten me with the births of my half-brothers. What am I to do?" Always had he gone to her for counsel. And as always, she gave it freely after a brief pause, bluntly and to the point, though slightly softened, as was her way, though this time she asked a question of her own first.

"Do you feel anger towards your brothers, Fëanáro? Towards your father?" she asked gently, stroking Fëanáro's ebony locks back from his face. He had taken a shuddering breath. "Or do you feel a deep-rooted fear of being left alone by the only parent you have left? A fear of being replaced, of being unloved?" He had trembled violently in her grasp as she said this, and Nelyafinwë had watched with his heart aching as Fëanáro had admitted to the second and third questions with little hesitation. He heard Nerdanel's voice become gentler as she gathered him closer, pressing his face into her bosom so that his delicately pointed ear rested above her heart.

"Do you hear that, my Fëanáro?" she had asked. "That is the sound of a heart that shall never replace you, never stray from its love for you. This heart beats in time with yours, has since the very second that we were Bonded. This heart shall always belong to you, as shall the heart of our son. Tell me, Fëanáro, as a father, when we have more children, will you replace Maitimo with them in your heart?"

"_No_." Fëanáro's reply had been firm and resolute in his conviction. "None of my children shall ever take favor over one another." Then Nerdanel had tilted Fëanáro's chin up so that they were looking eye-to-eye.

"Then you know how your father feels," she said with a gentle smile. "You shall never be replaced in his heart by your half-brothers and sisters. He loves you all equally, as only a father is able. Always shall his heart remain firm in his love for you as his son, and your heart shall always be tied to his by your love for him. Never shall either of you lose importance in one another." She gifted him with a tender kiss, stroking his damp cheek before pulling away. "Go back to your father's house after you have rested, my love, and speak with him of your fears. He shall understand, and you shall worry no more. And, love, try spending time with your half-brothers and sisters. They shall need a role-model to look up to, someone to show them how to do things when possible. Who knows? Maybe you shall come to love them, too."

Fëanáro had taken pause, then, gazing the few inches difference between their height into Nerdanel's eyes. Then he had quietly nodded, seeing the wisdom in such a thing. Mayhap it was time to allay his most secret fears and lay to rest old angers. And Nelyafinwë, just come of age, smiled with quiet acquiescence at his father's decision. Of course, Nelyafinwë would have to come with his father, but that was another story.

Still smiling, Nelyafinwë had left the doorway and gone up to his room, somewhat humbled and gratified from the sight of his father's tears. He knew that it was likely the only opportunity he would have to see them, and he vowed to treasure the memory.

_**END. **_

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I hope that you liked this. I also hope that Fëanor was not too out of character. Please give me some feedback! And if you did not understand something, then please see the above author's note. Thank you! Navaer!

-Fanatic


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